I returned to Bahrain, where I taught English at the small island
nation's Polytechnic University, on the 2nd of April, eight weeks into
the popular protests and increasingly severe police crackdown. My wife
and I had taken a break from Bahrain, where society was increasingly
divided, for a vacation in Thailand. But I'd found it difficult to
relax, my thoughts focused on what would happen to the demonstrators at
Pearl Roundabout, the center of protest, after King Hamad Khalifa had
asked for outside help from the GCC (Gulf Cooperation Council, the
Arabian Peninsula's Saudi-dominated political collective) to send troops
to control the situation with force. The GCC, originally established to
defend against external threats, deployed soldiers against Bahrain's
unarmed civilians, and the roundabout was cleared again while I was
away.

The wonderful Pearl Monument, at the center of the roundabout, had been
demolished while I was away. I found this very difficult to understand,
but it only confirmed the Khalifa regime's determination to remove all
traces of the peaceful protests that had occurred there. State
television said the area needed to be "cleansed" and the Bahraini
Foreign Minister, Khalid Bin Ahmad Al Khalifa, said the demolition was
"a removal of a bad memory."

I felt a huge sense of loss when I drove my car towards Abraj Al Lulu
roundabout and found there was no Lulu anymore. I had been told that
when the monument was constructed in 1982 (for the third summit of the
Gulf Cooperation Council, held in Bahrain) it was the tallest structure
in the country. It had since been dwarfed by several nearby apartment
buildings -- including my own, just neighboring the roundabout -- but it
was no less significant or impressive. Now it was gone.

The Polytechnic started up again following a break due to the "social
unrest" and there was another full meeting of staff. We learned that the
Polytechnic, formerly under the guidance of the Economic Development
Board was now to be a part of the Ministry of Education. A "deputy CEO"
had been appointed from the Ministry, Dr. Mohammed Ebrahim Al Aseeri
(who was not present at the meeting), whose role was to liaise with the
Minister so that the Minister could answer questions about the
Polytechnic in parliament. In stark contrast to his statement of
neutrality in February, university CEO John Scott announced that the
Polytechnic was now part of the state and that we should be seen to
support the government. "Like hell I will," I said to myself. John
informed us that all staff and students would be "investigated" for
participation in any of the recent demonstrations as soon as similar
investigations were completed at the University of Bahrain.

I resumed my teaching, squeezing my English course into the time that
remained in the semester. My students had been given the option of
morning or afternoon classes and had used this opportunity to form
themselves mainly into a morning pro-government group and an afternoon
pro-democracy group. Now my morning class was upbeat and smiling,
whereas my afternoon class was quiet but determined.

I still tried (as always) to teach without any favoritism or
discrimination but the overwhelming arrogance of my morning class made
it quite difficult for me. The students did not seem interested, some
arriving very late, some not even bringing paper or pen, some simply
playing on their mobile phones for the duration of the lesson. I never
mentioned what had happened outside the Polytechnic to them but I feel
that many of the students were aware of my feelings and had simply
dismissed me. I now feel that some of them were struggling as much as I
was with their own inner conflict of appearing to support the government
but secretly questioning what had taken place.

In May the investigations started as promised and the mood of the
Polytechnic was difficult. We learned that Bahraini staff had been
identified from photographs as having attended protests and were singled
out for investigation. One of the non-teaching staff was arrested and
severely beaten but was able to resume work. Facebook pages were set up
displaying photographs taken at demonstrations and asking pro-government
supporters to identify the circled faces so that they could be traced
and arrested.

One of my former students told me his terrifying story: he was called to
the administration building at the Polytechnic and, with five other
students, was taken to the nearby military building where they were all
put in a room. They stayed in there all night and were interrogated the
next morning. My student was very fortunate as he had been confused with
another young man with a similar name and was allowed to leave. Three
of the youths (students from the University of Bahrain) were handcuffed,
hoods were placed over their heads, and they were taken away on a bus,
never to be seen again.

I was finding it more and more difficult coping at this time but I tried
not to think too much about what might happen to me. I reassured myself
that I had not taken part in any protests and therefore was safe. My
videos from February had been dealt with by the "security staff" at my
apartment and so I felt safe about them. I know I had made comments to
my "friends" on Facebook but they were not critical of the ruling family
or the government, simply trying to correct false or misleading
information. I did not know what the future held at the Polytechnic for
me and I did not know if I could continue working for a government that
resorted to unlawful arrests, torture, and now identification from
social networking.

The state had begun expelling students, including one from my afternoon
class. The students were very upset and worried; I tried to give them as
much leeway as I could to cope. Some of my afternoon students came from
villages that were now being raided by police, arresting suspects and
damaging property. They still bravely came to class, passing through
checkpoints, and continued to work hard. I found their courage very
inspiring.

With every passing day that I was at the Polytechnic I waited to be
interviewed by the investigating committee that had been set up by the
deputy CEO. With every day that I wasn't asked I felt that maybe I had
flown under their radar and escaped detection. It was a stressful time.
After some time, I finally received a text message on my mobile phone
while I was in class asking me to visit the Director of Human Resources
in the CEO's office.

The meeting was direct and to the point. The Ministry of Education knew
all about me, knew all about my videos and my comments on Facebook. It
turns out that my "friends" had kept copies of my comments, which were
presented to me, although none of them could seriously be used to show
that I had been critical of the government in any way. I knew that my
number was up and there was nothing I could do. To his credit, John
Scott had insisted that I not front the other investigative committee as
I was the only non-Bahraini under investigation. I told him that I did
not hold him responsible for what was taking place in any way. Still, it
was obvious that the Ministry wanted me out immediately, but John said
he would try to see if he could arrange for me to finish up later.
Classes finished in four weeks.

We later agreed that I could teach until June 30, which would also give
me time to sell my car and arrange to pack and send all our belongings
to Thailand. I was asked to please stop making any comments at all on
Facebook, to which I agreed. I did not want the Polytechnic or anyone
from management to get into trouble for my actions.

I walked back to my office with mixed thoughts. I had been sacked from
my job, not because of my teaching ability or for any normal
disciplinary reason, but because I had taken videos and made comments on
Facebook. I now had to think of my future after June 30, look for a new
job somewhere and tell my wife that we had to leave our beautiful
apartment and the life we enjoyed together in Bahrain. On the other
hand, I felt a huge sense of relief that I had been freed from having to
work for the Bahraini government and that I would no longer have any
association with them whatsoever.

In the weeks following my dismissal I still monitored Facebook, mainly
to try to keep track of the students that had been expelled as I was
appalled to learn that many outstanding young Bahrainis and student
leaders of the Polytechnic had been ordered to leave. Several comments
appeared criticizing John Scott for the expulsions and for going back on
his word that the Polytechnic would remain neutral. I felt I could not
allow this to happen as I knew John's authority had been diminished by
the intervention of the Ministry and that he truly had the students'
best interests at heart at all times. So I posted what I thought was an
innocent comment: "I will tell you more about this after June 30th." It
turned out to be a bad move.

The next morning, June 14, I was called to the human resources
director's office (John Scott was on leave) and told that my Facebook
post had been brought to the Minister of Education's attention (no doubt
by one of my Facebook "friends"), who was "up in arms about it." He
demanded that I leave immediately. I packed up my belongings, copied all
my files from my Polytechnic laptop to my external hard drive, and gave
the laptop back. The Polytechnic had earlier booked flights to Thailand
for my wife and I for July 1; I was asked if I wanted them to change
the tickets.

I asked to stay through the end of June as planned. I didn't want to
cause a fuss and the extra two weeks would give us more time to pack,
sell the car, say our goodbyes, and leave. When I explained this in a
meeting with the university's human resources staff, they looked at one
other nervously and told me to think seriously about leaving the country
as soon as possible.

How had I become, by a few YouTube videos
and Facebook comments, perceived as such a threat to the government? It
was unnerving but showed me just how paranoid the government had become
and how determined it was to eradicate all opposition.

After frantically packing up our life in Bahrain and shipping it all to
Thailand, my wife and I flew out from Bahrain for good on June 23. On
the flight, I had time to reflect on my three years in Bahrain, what I
had experienced and what I had achieved. I also wondered what would
happen to the amazing country and the brave people I was leaving behind.
The answers are still not clear: protests have continued for almost a
year now, with the monarchy refusing to budge from its autocratic
minority rule. My tiny chapter was over, but the story of the Bahraini
uprising was far from it.

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